


When Tables Turn

by rothalion



Category: Army Of Two (Video Game)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-13 11:46:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3380336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rothalion/pseuds/rothalion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During an operation in Africa a situation arise that causes the guys to switch up roles a bit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

      _ **When Tables Turn**_

 

_**1** _

 

_**A Cutting Remark** _

 

     “Ok boys, here’s the deal. We’re inserting you approximately thirty-six klicks south-southeast of the objective in Kasai Provence. From there, you will infiltrate the rebel held jungle complex to a point a half klick out, and from there, you’ll hold in a forward position for seventy-two hours.”

      “For fucks sake why?”

      “Let Murray finish, Salem.”

      “Let Murray finish, Salem, let Murray…”

      “Enough, Salem.”

      “Enough…”

      “Ouch!”

      “As I was saying boys, seventy-two hours while gathering intel. This also will allow Giddy’s team time to finish the recon, and set up their overwatch position. Once they are all in, you get green lighted, and move on the rebel village. Now remember, this village is misleading, guys. Above ground, it’s just like any other Democratic Republic of Congo village. But, below the ground, it’s bee hived with diamond mines converted into infrastructure for the rebels. That’s our objective. Get into those mines, grab any laptop intel, paper intel ect. Photograph it, upload it whatever it takes and get it back home. Intel suggests a frightening buildup of resources in this complex with ties to making Dirty bombs and biologicals. The radio chatter is rife with hits in and out of this region. It’s all jungle, and I know how you both love jungle. So, get upstairs to the infirmary. They have your inoculations waiting. Then, head straight down to staging to meet with Fitz. Giddy’s already on the ground in Kinshasa. We go wheels up at 0430 tomorrow.”

      “After we grab the goods, we taking these tunnels out?”

      “Not at this time, Elliot. If they do have Biologicals down there blowing the system might release them. As you are uploading the intel, the client will be assessing it, and will make those decisions prior to you extracting.”

      “And the client is?”

      “Information you two don’t need, Tyson. So, off you go. Get your shots updated, and have a good night if you can.”

      “My maps, ma’am Murray?”

      “You’ll have the flight over to study them and finalize your plans. So, with that said boys, shots, wrap it up on the home fronts and be back here for lock down by 1700.”

      Once up stairs Tyson shoved Elliot through the double doors leading into the infirmary.

      “Get in there Salem. It’s only a few shots. We might even be up to date.”

      “I hate this floor. It smells like a hospital.”

      “That’s because it is a hospital you moron.”

      “And how come Giddy shipped without us. I don’t like that.”

      “Now who’s acting all suspicious?”

      “It is fucking suspicious, Tyse. Not like your fucked up conspiracy plots, I know but, it’s just not the way we usually roll, and I hate change. Fuck me twice it’s that god damned psycho Clyde.”

      “Ignore him.”

      “Well, well, well, looky here it’s Mister and Misses Rios. What’re you two losers up here for. Getting your birth control Elliot, or having Rios’ foot removed from your ass? Maybe both.”

      “Fuck you, Clyde!”

      “Salem.”

      “Step off a me, Rios. This fucker’s mine.”

      “Ooh you shoved me. Not bad for a little skinny ass bitch. Do it again it felt good.”

      “Salem, no!”

      “Oh come on Rios, let the teeny tiny man off of his leash, or are you afraid I’ll ruin that pretty little ass a his, and then, your prick won’t have a place to call home anymore.”

      Rios yanked one more time at Salem’s left shoulder, but the smaller man shrugged free, whirled round and followed through with a vicious spinning back fist to Clyde’s left cheek. The sneering mercenary staggered back from the unexpected blow, and then lunged straight for Salem. Rios gave up and stepped back.

      “Ok, now that did hurt.”

      Clyde’s momentum drove Salem back into and through an office door. The two men grappled with one another knocking over the small stainless steel instrument table and scattering the doctor’s supplies across the room. The doctor and the SSC asset he was suturing leaped aside trying to avoid the wrestling men. Salem had Clyde trapped in a head lock beneath his right arm and was bashing the growling man’s twisted face with his left fist. Finally, Clyde wriggled free enough to move, and squatted at his knees slightly, before exploding forcefully upwards with his arms wrapped tightly around Salem’s thighs. The force of the move drove the smaller man up and onto the small sink counter. Salem grunted when the top, back of his head impacted the upper cupboard causing him to bite through his lower lip. He spit the blood filling his mouth into Clyde’s face, and shook his head to clear away the stars twinkling in his eyes.

      Clyde charged him, preventing him from fully recovering. Salem, pinned against the wall, and beneath the low upper cabinet, had too little room to work in. He wrapped his legs around Clyde’s waist, and before the larger man could grab him too tightly, Salem threw himself hard to his right, off of the counter dragging Clyde with him. They slammed into a tall double door, free standing cabinet and then onto the floor. Clyde continued to roll right trying to break the scissor hold of Salem’s strong legs. The older mercenary was shocked at how strong Salem actually was for his size. His counter roll worked, positioning him behind and on top of Salem, trapping him on his hands and knees. The position terrified Elliot, and adrenalin surged through his body. Without hesitation, he pushed back against Clyde, reached upwards, and grabbed Clyde’s head between his forearms. Clyde bit savagely into Salem’s left arm just above his wrist and the smaller man screamed in pain. The pain only fueled his fury and he slammed back forward from his waist yanking Clyde over the top of his head. Once the stunned man hit the floor, Salem drove into his exposed throat with a right downward elbow strike. Clyde gasped and gagged for air, but Salem, seeing that he had the advantage, followed through with several rapid rabbit punches to Clyde’s face. The short fast jabs bounced Clyde’s head off the floor with sickening thuds.

      Rios, seeing that Salem was not going to let up until Clyde was either unconscious or dead, finally charged into the cluttered exam room, and wrapped his arms around him from behind. He lifted the smaller man straight up and off of Clyde, and then carried him kicking, screaming and squirming like a small child throwing a tantrum back into the now crowded hallway, and into an empty exam room three doors away. Another doctor followed the pair in, and slammed the door closed before locking it. Rios had Salem shoved into a corner holding him still with sheer strength and body weight.

      “You want him to tranq you, Salem!”

      “Fuck you!”

      “Calm the fuck down now. That’s fucking enough. It’s over!”

      “You fucking let me go right now you fat fucker, or…”

      “Or what?”

      Salem responded to Rios’ question with an elbow strike to his right side lower abdomen.

      “You little prick. That’s it, say goodnight.” Rios s growled before slamming Salem’s head into the wall forcefully enough to smash a hole into the drywall and knock him out. “There, now you have matching lumps front and back. Fuck me.”

      He stepped back allowing Salem’s limp body fall to the floor, and then doubled over slightly, surprised at how much the awkwardly aimed elbow strike had hurt. The doctor stepped beside him, and placed a concerned hand on his left shoulder.

      “You ok, Rios. That didn’t seem like much of a hit?”

      Rios stood back up and arched his back. Then, grimacing a bit, nodded.

      “Yea, Buck. I guess he just caught me just right. Damn it though, and fuck him when he’s all torqued like that. Help me get him up, will you.”

      They settled Salem onto the empty gurney, flat on his back, and stepped away. Buck dug around in the supply cupboard until he found an Amyl Nitrate ampule, and then returned to Rios.

      “Better wait until they get Clyde clear of here. Salem’s gonna be just as crazy when he comes to.”

      “Think so?”

      “I know so.”

      “I guess you would know best. He damn sure made himself an enemy in Clyde. Probably gonna need a few stitches too.”

      “That’s old news doc, real old news. That started way back in…”

      Before he could finish someone began banging on the door.

      “Rios, what have you two done now? Tyson Rios open this door. I take my eyes off of you boys for five damn minutes and, Rios!”

      “Ok Murray, ok, hold your horses.” The big man moaned, “Wake his skinny ass up, doc. He can explain this shit storm to mom Murray himself.”

      The first thing Salem saw when he snapped back to consciousness was Murray glaring down at him, and the shock actually cleared away the fog of fury coursing through his throbbing head. Her lips were moving, and she was wagging a neatly manicured right index finger at him only inches from his nose. White he noted, squinting at the wriggling finger and trying to focus on seeing only one of it. Why would anyone paint their finger nails white? It looked scary, like a zombie finger. He squeezed his eyes shut, and took a deep breath. Maybe Nala knew why. She was a bit, well maybe more than a bit, of a tom boy, but was forced to spend a fair amount of time around Samantha and her harpy girlfriends. White the odd shade made his stomach churn. It was opaque. It made her finger look as if there was nothing above the top knuckle. The oddly hued finger distracted him from the fact that despite seeing her lips moving he couldn’t really make out her words.

      “You have very nice lips Murray. But, why would you paint your nails that sickly white color?”

      The statement shut her up. This, she knew, is what Rios had to contend with on a daily basis with Elliot. The man had no bounds when it came to insolence. She furrowed her brow a bit more, trying to impart upon him just how furious she was, but he simple laid there unmoved by what she considered her best wrathful glare.

      “What were you thinking!”

      “I was wondering why anyone’d paint their finger nails that color that you have there.”

      “Salem, Clyde? You were ordered to stay clear of him.”

      “Ordered, hmm, I can see your lips moving again Murray, but I get only static. Did you say ordered? Tyse tell her, me and that word, the O word, we just don’t…”

      “Why are you so god damned onerous, Salem?”

      “Ordered not onerous wrong O.Why are you so persnickety, Murray? Wanna go again? You’re Q.”

      “Rios, get his head stitched, get his shots, take him home, pack his shit and get him back here by 1700, and keep him away from Clyde. If he starts up again, it’s not going to bode well for either of you. He’s your responsibility.”

      “Clyde started it.”

      “What Salem!”

      “I can hear you now, stop hollering so loud. You’re making my damaged head hurt. Clyde started it. I was just defending Rios from the nut jobs cruel barbs.”

      “No Salem, you started it. You! Your instructions are to ignore him. Your standing R.O.E pertaining to Phillip Clyde are to look the other way and walk away. Not attack the man in the infirmary. Am I clear?”

      “That, Alice dear, is a qundom R.O.E. policy. And, why Alice, why are you always so quarrelsome over a quibble?”

      “Quibble?” She screeched.

      “That we disagree regarding the relevant facts. Clyde started it. Now, your humble and reprehensible accusation that moi is the aggressor here, is retractile, although I can respect your reticence. So…”

      “I’m through here! Rios, see my orders completed, and you not another word to me until you get back from Africa!”

 

 


	2. 2-A Cut Above

_2_

_ A Cut Above _

 

      Elliot slashed at the dense under growth on his right three times with vicious downward strikes before switching the sap soaked machete to his left hand and clearing the tangle of vegetation from the opposite side of the trail he was cutting. He pushed the vines and leaf cluttered branches aside, stomped on them, and then looked up and around trying to decide if the hole he’d cut in the dense strangle hold of Rain Forest flora would accommodate Rios’ bulk. While he studied his handy-work, he sighed and flexed the fingers of his right hand. Beneath the calf skin leather glove, he could feel the slick, oozing puss from several, hours old blisters, that he knew tore through at least two layers of skin. Removing the glove would serve no purpose, nor would acknowledging the pain. So, he took a long sip of tepid water from his camelback and pushed ahead.

      Salem was prone to complaining, although typically not in a serious manner, and today, even if he’d had a mind to, the 105 degree temperature and 100 percent humidity shuttered any of his remarks well within his sweat soaked, throbbing head. What right did he really have to complain? It was usually Rios’ job to break the trail, but here, the rain forest’s thick, twisted nest of undergrowth rendered it nearly impossible for the big man to move. So, the task fell to Elliot with his smaller, lither frame.

      It had been three days since his fight with Clyde, and the sweat running into the stitched, yet still open, slashes on his head stung. Growling, he hacked angrily at a three inch thick vine while pretending that it was first Clyde’s neck, and then Murray’s. The feisty contract writer had been nothing short of cold and sternly professional with him since the debacle, and her behavior irked him.

      “Fucking pious bitch.” He spat under his breath, “What the fuck’r we supposed to do? Just take that prick’s shit. Fuck the lot of you. I’ll be a son of a bitch before I start kissing Phil…”

      The site of a three and a half foot long Gaboon viper, coiled slumbering beneath a palm-like bush, halted his internal diatribe and without hesitation, he severed its thick, broad head and toed the carcass deeper into the dense foliage. A snake was a snake, and Elliot had no use for the slithering creatures unless he desperately needed food. The Gaboons, he knew, were particularly docile snakes, but he’d not risk Rios raising its ire and possible getting bitten. They were amazingly fast, accurate strikers and with the largest fangs of all venomous snakes, a bite, secluded as they were, could prove fatal.

      Snake dispatched, he slashed his way another forty feet into the foliage and once again paused. He took the sweat drenched bandana from his head, and wiped his face wincing when he pressed a bit too hard on Clyde’s wounds. Then, he gently probed at the gash on the back of his head, disgusted to find it caked with small biting midges. Cursing, Elliot emptied a palm full of water from the canteen on his side and flushed the voracious insects free of his hair and stitches. Content, or as close to content one could be slogging along a forsaken river in hellish heat, he soaked the cotton rag and wound it back onto his head, making certain that it covered the wound, checked his compass and began hacking again.

      It wasn’t long before thoughts of Murray skittered through his mind once more. Over all of the years that the trio had been a team, he’d done nothing to truly disappoint her in any serious manner as far as the job was concerned. Sure, he screwed up here and again, but who didn’t. Besides, he thought, it was usually Tyson who bailed him out of a jam. Job wise, he was always on his game, if not considerably above it, blindly following whatever orders the petite mission runner or Tyson gave him. That was how his life worked. Do the job, go home and rest, and do the job again. Elliot did not live for Elliot. He lived for his team. He lived, fought, and suffered for Rios and Murray, and now, it seemed, she was going to treat him like some red headed step child, because he’d defended Rios and himself from Philip Clyde. No, he thought, he didn’t think so.

      “Fuck me!” He growled when his right hand spasmed, released the machete mid-swing and cramped into a rigor tight fist.

      The pain was nearly un-bearable, and he took a series of deep breaths to get the strained, under hydrated muscles to relax. There was nothing for it though. So, he retrieved the dropped machete in his left hand and went back to work; annoyed that God was probably just finding yet another way to torment him for his non-belief and criticism of his colleagues. Finally, some hundred yards later, after a long uphill pitch to the southwest, his hand relaxed. Relieved, he stopped and drank while flexing it. The once slick puss had dried while his fist remained clenched and the blisters now tore open gifting him with yet another round of pain.

      Elliot closed his eyes, visualized lying on his surf board, bobbing in the warm soothing water while taking in the pinking horizon just before sunrise. Vision firm in his mind’s eye, he then breathed deeply willing away the pain. Finally, moderately pain free and after long pull of water from his nearly empty Camelback, a look at his compass and at the basketball sized, diamond shaped patch of azure sky that he could just barely see through the towering jade colored, Ficus choked canopy, he struck out again hacking away with his right hand.

      Several paces along, as he switched the machete back into his left hand for a bit, he realized he couldn’t heard Rios plodding along behind him. They hadn’t spoken in several hours. It was brutally hot and talking un-necessarily wasted precious energy, and moisture. Despite their silence, Salem could hear the bigger man crushing the brush and keeping pace about twenty yards to his six. Now, there was nothing but gloomy, humid silence, and concerned, Elliot turned to look for him only to see no-one. With his heart racing a bit, he cued Tyson up on comms, and began to backtrack down the steep slope he’d just clamored up.

      “Rios?”

      After along agonizing pause, Salem’s ear piece crackled and Tyson’s voice filled it.

      “To your six a bit, took a breather.”

      “Roger that. I’m in bound, stay put.”

      Took a breather, a bit, Elliot thought, what the hell? Never, in all their years together, had Tyson _taken a breather_ and it was wholly out of character for him to use such a non-specific term as _a bit_. Salem frowned at the odd exchange. They often stopped for him to rest, sure, but his size held him at a disadvantage when they were loaded down with gear. But, for Rios to need a break, that was as un-fathomable as hoping that it wouldn’t rain on them until the op was over.

      After skittering down the final few feet of the embankment and trotting along the ragged trail for nearly one-hundred and fifty yards Salem stopped short. Rios was sitting nearly right on top of the spot where he’d decapitated the Gaboon viper. For a brief moment, Salem feared that somehow he’d not completely killed the snake. He’d heard tales of snake’s head staying alive and biting unsuspecting gawkers. As he forced his feet to move, he realized that no, Rios was actually just past the slain reptile. Still, Salem’s heart thudded. The big man was sitting with his back against a huge tree root, elbows across his knees with his head hanging down between his them.

      “Tyse, I’m here, talk to me.” Salem said sternly kneeling down in front of him.

      Rios looked up and shrugged his wide shoulders before dropping his perspiration beaded head again. Elliot shuffled his ruck off and grabbed at his med kit, trying to gauge Rios’ condition. He was breathing rapidly, and the quick glimpse of his face betrayed to him that the man was in a good deal of pain. The situation was slightly un-nerving for the younger man. He was a trained combat medic, they all were, but by virtue of luck or the lack of it Elliot seldom needed to use the skills. It was typically Tyson or Giddy working on him. He knew the first step was to keep the person calm.

      “Chill bro, you’re probably just dehydrated. You drinking water? Do I need to baby sit you better?”

      When the sarcastic quip went un-noticed Salem knew he truly did have a situation far outside of their normal operational paradigm.                                                                                                                        

     “Look at me, Tyse.” He pressed trying to hide the concern he was feeling from his voice. “Are you just cramping? An I.V. I could hook you up and we’ll be moving in twenty mikes. Times a wasting you fat ass hole.”

      Again he received no reprimand for his insult, only Tyson’s woozy muffled reply.

      “Don’t know, Salem. Just haven’t been feeling right for a while now. Guts feel like somebody’s twisting ‘em in their fists.”

      “Snake didn’t get you did it? Sometimes the heads can bite. Fuckin’ scared the shit outa me. Just there, about seven, eight feet, back I killed a big ass Gaboon. Christ, when I saw you sitting here, I thought maybe I fucked it up and he got you anyway. Here sip this.”

      Tyson waved him off.

      “No, and no snake. Everything I take in I puke up and the pain gets worse.”

      “Fuck Tyse, you gotta hydrate bro. Hang tight, there’s a small eddy off a the main tributary, and some rain water was pooled there in some rocks, I’ll be right back.”

      Rios gave a non-committal grunt, and Elliot slipped away. Once he was out of ear shot, he cued Murray up.

      “Delta HQ, Delta HQ this is Green Giant do you read?”

      Murray sat up straighter in her chair, rubbed the sleep from her eyes, and stared at the flickering computer in front of her. She checked the laptop’s clock and double checked a second one hanging on the wall of the old musty airplane hangar that the client had arranged for them to use as their T.O.B. twelve and a half klicks outside of [Mbuji-Mayi](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mbuji-Mayi). It was three and a half hours before team Bird’s Eye was due for a comms check. She made note of the duo’s GPS location, and found that they were on schedule, had made their easterly turn away from the Sankura River and were now, ten klicks along their new heading into the dense rain forest. With a practiced eye, she looked next at the screen displaying the read outs from their vital signs. What she read for Rios snapped her the rest of the way to attention. Salem’s heart rate was also elevated and combined with the fact that he was calling in and not the older operative deeply worried her.

      “Secour, open the line.”

      “Delta HQ to Green Giant, go ahead.”

      “DHQ I have a potential situation. I have…”

      “Shit,” Secour spat, “Green Giant I need you to take a static twenty. You are breaking up. I repeat, assume a static twenty. Do you copy?”

      “I copy your last, take a static twenty. Can you read me now DHQ?”

      “Good, Green Giant, much better. Go ahead.”

      “Sprout is down, I repeat Sprout is down. I don’t know with what, but I know him and it don’t look good.”

      Murray looked over at Secour and furrowed her brow. The timbre of Salem’s voice had dropped to the deep baritone he used as his command voice, and both operatives could hear the nervous edge in it. While he wasn’t prone to panic, on occasion he did, but Tyson could always rein him in. If Tyson was down though, well then, there could be a problem.

      “Secour, can we drop the call signs, how’s our security looking?”

      “I don’t advise it, Alice. We’re bouncing comms off of five different sats and hidden behind a nearly impenetrable security wall, but it’s a big ass jungle out there, and who knows what shady mercs are crawling around in it and what kind of gear they have. I get your point. It would bring him closer to us, but I don’t advise it. We’re just going to have to keep him in line.”

      “Get a link up with Giddy. I want him to hear what ever Elliot has to say.”

      “Three mikes and he’ll be up.”

      “Good.”

      Murray took a deep breath, turned to the lap top on her far left and opened up an in depth medical resource, designed by SSC’s doctors. Then, she put on her headset, adjusted the microphone to just in front of her pert lips and keyed up Elliot.

      “Green Giant, this is Delta HQ.”

      At the sound of Murray’s firm voice Elliot flinched a bit. Then, he rang out a little of the cool, fresh water he’d found in the rain water pool from one of his spare shirts, hefted the re-filled water bladder, stood and keyed his mike.

      “Go ahead.” He replied quietly, hesitantly, trying to tell if her voice held anger or animosity.

      “I see that he’s running a temp, 102.1. What other symptoms does he have?”

      “Delta, gimme five mikes. I’m humping some fresh water back to him to try and cool him down. I’ll probably lose you.”

      “Copy that.”

      While they waited for Elliot to check back in, Giddy piped up.

      “Delta HQ this is, Snap. What do you have?”

      “Snap are you monitoring comms?” Murray responded still scrolling through potential illnesses from that area of the world.

      “Negative.”

      “Start, we have a situation. Green Giant just called and Sprout is down.”

      “Down how, Delta?”

      “Green Giant will be back in two Mikes so just be prepared to listen and pull up Sprouts vitals, no vitals on them both, and the med resource.”

      “Copy that, Delta, and it’s done. That’s a high fever. I have him at 102.5 not a good sign. It might be off a bit. They are in triple digit temps. Heart rates up and B.P. is too.”

      “Copy that, Snap. He seemed fine when they left so…maybe a reaction to one of his shots?”

      Before Giddy could respond Salem joined the conversation once again.

      “Delta HQ, I’m back. I put a cool towel over his head and tried to get him to drink, but he won’t, says that he just pukes it up. He’s burning up. Says his guts are in agony. He’s drowsy and I think getting, if not already, dehydrated. I’m gonna start an I.V. of…”

      “Hold one on that, Green Giant. Is…”

      “Giddy, thank fuck.”

      “Green Giant, we need to stick to call signs. We have a security concern.”

      “Copy that, Snap.” Salem responded dejectedly, “He needs fluids though.”

      “I know, but depending on what’s wrong I don’t want to start using up your supplies until absolutely necessary. Let me talk to him.”

      Salem sighed and studied Tyson. He was drooping lower and lower, and soon, Salem thought, he’d have to lie him down.

      “Tyse, Giddy needs to talk to you. Tyse, you hearing me, man? Tyson?”

      Finally, Rios looked up, bleary eyed and nodded as if his head weighed a thousand pounds.

      “Snap?” He grunted.

      “Talk to me, big guy. What’s ailing you?”

      “Don’t know. Haven’t really felt right for a few days, but just figured it was a cold. My gut’s in agony, I’m burning up, throwing up, every breath hurts. Losing fluids both ends. I…”

      “Bug bite, snake, anything like that? You drink the water, eat anything off, you know the drill.”

      “Negative, like I said I think it started just as we were leaving. Had it on the plane. Just blew it off.”

      “Where’s the pain?”

      “Started, ahh fuck that hurts like a bitch, started near my belly button; just twinges. Then, moved to right side toward hip, around where Green Giant hit me with that elbow strike the other day. I just figured he pinched a nerve 'cause it hurt like hell at the time. It was weird that it hurt so much, little bitch barely tapped me, but… fuck it hurts to talk.”

      “Ok, hang tight buddy.” Giddy told him, and then motioned for Zac to open a closed line to Secour, “Fruit Pie, gimme a closed line to you and Murray. Cut Sprout out and then after I talk to Green Giant him too. Green Giant, I need you to make him a safe place to lie down on. You know, no bugs, snakes, rain etcetera.”

      “Copy that Snap. Make a hidey hole, what’s wrong with him?”

      Giddy sighed and scratched at the back of his head. He needed to keep Salem moving. He needed the younger man to focus on something besides projecting situations that were possible. He knew that once Salem began that process, they would lose him to panic.

      “Not sure. We are working on it. So, just build your hide. Just concentrate on that for right now, Fifty. Snap out.”

      “Copy that. Build my hide. Green Giant out.” Elliot responded irritated that they’d pushed him from their net.

      “Fruit Pie?”

      “Go ahead, Snap. You are clear with a closed link.”

 


	3. 3-A Cut Below

_3_

_ A Cut Below _

 

      Salem took a long hard look at Rios, re –adjusted the cool, moist shirt draped over his head and neck, and then sighing moved down the rough-hewn trail in search of an adequate location to build their hide. Not far off, he found a large bole of Ficus roots and vines that was hollow and the ground beneath them only covered in a light litter off fallen leaf detritus. After crawling into it, he smoothed the floor, clearing it of any large sticks or stones, stocking them in the corner should he need a fire, stretched out a survival blanket and pitched their light weight two man Jungle shelter. It wasn’t much more than a rain fly, but it would keep out the bugs and snakes, and with the additional root cover they’d stay dry. Then, he hacked a two foot wide swath of clear cut around the root mass. Tyson would barely fit his bulk in the space let alone the two of them. The tent was really only for emergency’s which, didn’t help quell Salem’s growing anxiety, but it would due, and besides, if his nose was right they had rain inbound.

      By the time Elliot returned to Tyson, he’d slumped back down and looked even paler than before.

      “Delta HQ, talk to me.” He pled.

      He’d heard no radio chatter the entire time he was working on the hide. They’d cut him out of the net and the radio silence was pissing him off as well as driving him crazy.

      “We’re working on it, Green Giant. Just sit tight with him.” Giddy offered by way of placating him.

      Giddy’s words weren’t very much comfort but Elliot clung to them. Then, after groaning at the sight of Rios’ pale countenance, he knelt back down in front of him, tipped his head up, and cupped his left cheek in his left hand. The scalding heat of Rios’ flesh against his palm frightened him. His eyes were half shut, and perspiration dotted his slightly stubbled upper lip. He soaked another cloth with some more of the water he’d brought back, and daubed at Rios’ furrowed forehead. Orders or not, Salem knew that he needed to move Rios before the huge man couldn’t help him.

      “Tyse, I need to get you to a safe place. Rain’s coming and we’re dead in the water for tonight. Op clock’s on hold.”

      “Right, right, just help me up, Salem. Gimme your arm, man.”

      Salem tugged as hard as he could and finally, Rios was on his feet, doubled over nearly in half clutching his stomach with his right arm.

      “Easy, one step at a time, Tyse, good, it’s not far. You’re gonna need to crawl in, but it’s not a bad hide. Easy, I have you, lean on my shoulders, step, step, just a little more. Good, now, this way, left just off the trail. Once you’re in, I’ll try to build a bit of a water shed, but I think we’ll stay dry. On your knees, good crawl in now. I can’t help you, just worm in as far as you can so I can fit too. Good. Now, Giddy wants you to lie down. Just, well, maybe on your side for now if it helps with the pain. Good stay put like that and I’ll grab our shit, come straight back and make you more comfortable.”

      Salem ducked out and trotted back to where they’d grounded their kits. He slung a pack over each shoulder, and then, as he started to turn away, he recalled the Gaboon Viper. It wouldn’t be wise to have anything edible for scavengers, so close by. He dropped the gear and returned to the spot where he’d kicked the dead snake. Then, reaching into the under growth, Salem retrieved the still warm remains, carried it back to the tiny clearing where he could see the river, and fetch fresh water. After a long survey of the opposite bank, he threw the vile, limp body as far into the swirling clay hued current as he could, sending the head after it with care not to get any leaking venom on his hands. Back at the gear, he loaded up again and trudged back to Tyson.

      Once there, he dug around the rucks and created a pillow for the stricken man. Tyson, to Salem’s dismay, was now shivering violently. The fever was getting worse, if that was possible. Delta HQ needed to get back to him soon, or he was going to take the situation into his own hands. They were there, and he was here and they needed to start thinking like a man in the field.

      He opened up Tyse’s ruck, found his survival blanket and covered him in it. Fifty mikes had gone by with only radio silence, and now that he wasn’t working on the hide, fear began to creep deeper into his mind, and he started projecting possible scenarios and their outcomes, none of which were good. He couldn’t carry Tyse out, he couldn’t call for extraction and he had no idea what the problem was, aside from Tyson’s comment that it had begun after his elbow strike. The idea that he’d caused Rios’ illness was as agonizing as witnessing the big soldier’s suffering. Not knowing what else to do, he slipped back out of the hide and set about cutting brush and further drying in their home for what he hoped would be just that night.

      Back at the T.O.B., the team brainstormed Rios’ symptoms with Giddy in Kinshasa and Delta team’s doctors back at SSC headquarters in Miami. The op was on an indefinite hold and time was of the essence. Money was being lost.

      Former SEAL member, Dr. Buck James at SSC Headquarters wanted a direct link to the team, but Giddy felt that doing so would set Salem off. The young man didn’t trust very many people and when it came to doctors Giddy was his go to person. Involving James directly might panic him. James had also administered the duos’ travel vaccinations, and if Giddy knew anything at all about Elliot he was certain that the shots had already entered the younger man’s mind as being a potential cause for Rios’ problem. That being said Elliot would blame the doctor destroying any trust that had been between them.

      “There’s no reason, Buck, that I can’t play the middle man at least until we talk Elliot through the triage stage.”

      “I’d rather ask my own questions, Snap. It’s easier.”

      “Look Buck, I’ll ask, you listen, just feed them to me on our closed link up, trust me on this. You don’t know him like I do. Right now I’d lay odds he’s blaming you for giving him those shots. Just never mind, Fruit Pie make it so.”

      “Copy that.” Secour replied before making the needed adjustments to the comms net to keep Buck from speaking directly to Elliot...

      Ten minutes later, as Salem was weaving some final branches into the hide, his ear piece chirped. He was back in the loop.

      “Talk to me.”

      Giddy took a deep breath and began. “You have him in a safe place?”

      “Copy that. I built us a tight hide, while you fucks were dicking around. Now, either get off the fucking pot or shit, or however that fucking saying goes, and talk to me. Is it one a those god damned quack shots Murray made us get. ‘Cause if it fucking is I’ll kill that slimy fucking SEAL son of a bitch, Navy puke!”

      “Relax Green Giant, and no we do not think it’s one of the vaccinations. I need you to examine him, ok. Shirt off and I need you to poke and probe his belly and groin. Can you do that?”

      “Sure.”

      Salem wrangled into the tent and gently prodded Tyson over onto his back. The big man moaned in pain, as Salem forced him to stretch out. Then, he removed Tyson’s shirt and unzipped his pants giving him the access Giddy was requesting.

      “What do I do?”

      “Press against his belly about navel high, and work your way down and out to the right until he lets you know where exactly the pain is the worst.”

      Salem did and as he neared Tyson’s right groin area the man reached out and slapped his hands away.

      “Hurts stop!”

      “I have to, Tyse.” He said quietly in nearly a whisper, “I need to find, there, right here is the spot Snap. It feels all weird. It’s swollen actually protruding.”

      “Good, that’s good. Delta HQ, do we have conformation that Sprout still has his Appendix?”

      “Copy that.” Murray snapped sounding a bit relieved, “Are we all in agreement?”

      “I think so. It’s that, or a Hernia, but hold on. Green Giant, does his pain increase when he drinks water?”

      “Tyse, does it get worse when you eat or drink?”

      “Yea.”

      “Copy that, Snap. What the fuck is it?”

      “We’re going with Appendicitis, Green Giant. If not, then, a Hernia. Either way, he needs surgery immediately.”

      “Then send me a fucking evac team right fucking now!”

      “Negative.”

      “Negative!” Salem squawked, “Fuck you, Delta HQ. You need to get us the fuck out of here, now!”

      Murray pinched the bridge of her nose. Salem was coming apart.

      “Secour, are you sure that we cannot drop the call signs?”

      “It would be very risky. It could destroy our anonymity.”

      “Green Giant, you are a fully qualified combat medic. You will perform the necessary procedure on your partner. You will do so successfully and then, you will complete your mission solo. Do you copy your orders Green Giant?”

      Salem couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Murray, the team, they wanted him to do surgery on Tyson in a tree root cave, in a pouring rain storm, seventy klicks from civilization. He wouldn’t, couldn’t do it. Not to mention proceed with the op alone, which was damn near a suicide run.

      “No, you need to drop somebody in here. You need to…”

      “Fifty,” Giddy broke in casting aside protocol, “It’s not a difficult procedure but if you wait, we wait and his Appendix ruptures he’ll develop Peritonitis and that is potentially fatal under the best conditions and a death sentence under yours.”

      “I am not a god damned surgeon!”

      “No, but Doc Buck…”

      “Fuck that bitch Buck! Evac us right the fuck now. I can get him to the river, and you can send in a boat. You can…”

      “That is not going to happen as per HQ’s orders. This op is too important. Too much is at stake. Lives are at stake here if those Biologicals get out onto the open market.”

      “We don’t even fucking know if they exist! Get me a fucking chopper now.”

     “No. Now, Buck is listening and he’ll be watching through your helmet cam and talking you through it.”

      Before Salem could respond, he was shocked to hear Richard Dalton’s voice hollering at Murray. The man must have been monitoring the operation from SSC headquarters.

      “Lady, you need to get this shit storm and your operative under control.”

      “Sir, we are doing just that. Once the surgery is finished and Sprout is stable, Green Giant will proceed as planned.”

      “Fuck Green Giant! I am warning you for the last time, I have had it to here with that boy! If he hadn’t hit Sprout during his immature brawl with my personal asset, we wouldn’t be here now.”

      “Sir, this is an open comm line, and we do not know that the fight caused this, not for sure.”

      “Fuck open comms Ms. Murray! Have you ever heard of Harry Houdini? Well he died from a ruptured Appendix; an Appendix ruptured by a blow to his stomach, and Green Giant, he is nothing but trouble and the only reason he’s still here is because I can’t afford to lose Sprout. He rides on that big bastard’s coat tails and those coat tails are getting god damned thin. You tell him to fix Sprout, and finish his mission, or I will send my special asset to finish him. Alpha out.”

      “Well, that’s the last thing we needed.” Secour said tearing off his headset. “Makes me want to go get them myself. What the fuck’s going on with this company!”

      “Relax; we all just need to relax.” Murray ordered, forcing down her own anger, “Okay, first off, Secour cut that bastard, Alpha, out. I do not want Alpha back in this comms net until I give the word.”

      “That might cost you your job, Murray.”

      “Secour, my guys come first. Snap, start prepping an evac team, with the necessary prep to go in and get them from a location closer to their current twenty. Obviously the initial extraction plan is now un-attainable, and Buck, get set up to talk Green giant through this.”

      Finally, she turned her full attention to Elliot’s plight. She’d treated him badly in the days following his fight with Clyde. Although she did understand Elliot’s reasons for attacking the cruel mercenary, the situation had dictated that she discipline him. What she should not have done was allow her anger to carry over. That was poor management, and of all the people who did not need that type of treatment Salem was upper most. She knew that now, he was searching her comments for any hint of disdain. It was counter-productive and dangerous. They could not afford to have him second guessing her orders based upon the feelings he thought he sensed in her voice.

      “Snap, are you with me?”

      “Copy that, I have Whit on the other line and Crackle’s taking care of business.”

      “Green Giant.”

      “What?” The younger man hissed back.

      “You, we can do this. You’re a trained…”

      “So you all keep telling me. He needs fluids now! Why can’t I start his I.V.?”

      “We are getting there. Buck is setting up, Snap will assist, and you trust him absolutely, right?”

      “Copy that.” Elliot muttered while hanging the I.V. bag from a notch that he’d carved into one of the overhead tree roots.

      “Good, then, when we are all set, you will start the procedure with them talking you through it one step at a time. You need your mask, you need…”

      “Delta HQ, my right hand is nearly useless.” Elliot interjected defeat idly.

      “Repeat that Green Giant.” Snap broke in, “Useless how, Fifty?”

      “Blisters and just thrashed from hacking with that machete for eighteen hours straight, kind of useless. I don’t even know if I can hold a scalpel let alone use it right. I have three layer deep blisters across all four finger palm pads and my palm, and when I peeled off my glove most of the skin came with. It’s also cramped up so bad that my dexterity is totally fucked and you want me to take a scalpel to Tyson’s stomach.”

      Murray had no words for the man. Giddy filled in for her.

      “Treat the blisters, Fifty. Then, use your Mole skin to patch them up, and put on two pairs of surgical gloves. Copy that?”

      Giddy’s firm command tone brought Salem back a bit. He had no choice but to follow the command. What else could he do, just sit back, wait for Rios’ Appendix to rupture and then watch the man die.

      “Copy that.”

      Finally, after what seemed an eternity to Murray and the team, Salem squawked the comms net.

      “Okay, hands are fixed up, I.V.s set what about anesthesia?”

      “Prep him first. Shirt off, the area cleansed and all of your med kit surgical tools laid out within easy reach. What’s that noise?”

      “Rain and thunder, Snap. Tyse, man, I have to do a surgery on you. Tyse, can you hear me man?”

      “Yea, been following comms as best I could and Ellie fuck Dalton. I’m starting to think he’s nothing but a fucking big prick. You have this, Elliot; just do what they say.”

      “Okay Tyse, but easy on the Dalton shit he’s listening. Now wiggle a bit so I can get your shirt off. Thanks, sorry it hurts. Pants too.”

      Ten minutes later Salem had Rios stripped and prepped for surgery, and water boiling on their Svae stove. The final task would be to knock him out with Ketamine. He leaned over the big man and kissed his forehead. Tyson opened his eyes, grasped Elliot’s hands and smiled weakly up at him. This would be the most difficult task that Elliot had ever undertaken and Rios wanted to show him that he had complete faith in his ability.

      “No worries, Ellie. We got this. Just like everything else, we got this. So knock my fat ass out, and get to work.”

      “Roger that.” Salem replied flipping down his mask, “Giving him the Ket, Snap. The amount that you said and I have a syringe set with a backup if I take too long. Do you guys want me to show you the syringes, Snap?”

      “Negative, you know how to fill them. We trust you, Green Giant, proceed.”

     “Copy that proceed. Ket’s in and the I.V.s good, and so I guess I’m ready.”

      “Copy that Green Giant. You have twenty-five to thirty mikes before the Ketamine fades off, so just work steady. Once he’s out we’ll start and remember, Green Giant, it is Sprout, but skin is skin and it cuts the same. So, just try to visualize cleaning some kind of game. Just listen to us and he’ll be just fine.”

      “Copy that Snap, I’m cleaning a squirrel.” Salem muttered, and the tremor in his voice was not lost to the rest of the anxious team.

 


	4. On the Cusp of Freezing

_4_

_ On the Cusp of Freezing _

 

 

      Salem mumbled an awkward prayer to a god had didn’t believe in, and pressed his thumb and index finger against the taught toffee hued flesh of Tyson’s lower right groin. The scalpel, glimmering in the circle of light thrown out by his helmet’s head lamp, felt warm in between his gloved slightly trembling fingers, despite the cloying heat of the jungle. Outside of the men’s crude shelter, a driving rain sluiced down through the dense Rain Forest canopy. If nothing else, Salem thought, they’d have plenty of fresh water. He flinched when Giddy’s calm and reassuring voice crackled in his right ear.

      “That’s the correct location. That’s McBurney’s point. Go on, pull his skin a little bit tighter, press and make your first incision on an angle between eleven o'clock and five o’clock.”

      He took a deep tremulous breath and a final look up at Tyson’s face, now relaxed in the Ketamine induced slumber. Then, resolved pushed the stainless steel blade against Tyson’s skin drawing it slowly toward himself for three inches, blanching when a thin rivulet of bright crimson blood percolated to the surface. Buck’s deep voice re-focused him.

      “Good, now I know that we talked about a three inch long incision but I want you to go just a little longer, four and a half. That will give you some extra room to work in since you don’t have any real tools to keep the wound open.”

      “Snap?”

      “Roger that. I concur with Buck, go ahead and do it.”

      Salem did as the two men instructed and then, daubed away the slight flow of blood. Seeing the blood was making him ill, and he gagged on the bile rising in his throat. He’d seen his fair share of it over the years; his, Tyson’s, the enemies, and he damn near been bathed in the gore of it on more occasions than he could accurately count, but for some reason being the cause of Tyson’s bleeding was impacting him negatively. Conversely, he thought, maybe any sight of blood should make him sick and the fact that it did not was a negative reaction.

      “Now, you need to cut through the next three layers. Just repeat what you have just done and when you reach the last one, his Peritoneum, take care not to cut too deep.”

      “How deep is too deep?” he squawked, the caution sending a wave of anxiety through him. “You say that like I should know, Buck.”

      “Easy Green Giant, easy,” Giddy cut in, “just go very slowly and imagine that you are cutting into the skin of a length of the Boudin that you love. We just don’t want you to nick the Cecum. You’re doing great and so is he. His vitals are stable.”

      Salem groaned and went to work. Tyson’s tissue separated beneath his knife and scissors and he began to relax slightly. When he reached the Peritoneum he took a breath and carefully snipped at it.

      “Good, now we have to deliver his Cecum and with it the Appendix. We know a second pair of hands is the typical arrangement, but you can do it alone. Stick your finger into the opening and gently begin pulling his Cecum, it looks like under stuffed sausage, out until you can manipulate it around and expose the Appendix.”

      The idea of jamming his finger into Rios’ abdomen sent another wave of nausea through him. Salem tamped it down and recalled Heckler holding his finger in his chest to save his life and after squeezing his eyes shut went back to work. He froze at the initial sensation of slipping into the wound and feeling Tyson’s warm mushy innards.

      “You have this Green Giant, keep moving.”

After several long, tentative seconds the Cecum popped free and the Appendix, swollen and discolored appeared just beneath it.

      “Got it. It’s nasty looking. Looks almost gangrened a little.”

      “It is, so it’s a good thing we went in. Now locate the artery, it looks like a whitish tube.”

      “Got it.”

      “Ligate it with your clamps. You have done it before in training just with other arteries. Good, do you have your cauterizing tool ready?”

      “Yea.”

      “Make a small cut just at the end of the Appendix where it attaches to the Cecum, right below the artery and slide your forceps through it, the snip and cauterize it. Then…”

      The rest of the procedure passed in a haze of monotone instruction from Giddy and Buck. Salem set himself on auto-pilot and tried not to think about all the errors that he could potentially make. The procedure had gone a little long though, and they opted to hit the sick man with the maintenance dose of Ketamine.

      As he pulled the final sutures snug, the adrenalin, which had kept him focused, began to burn off and he started shaking. He snipped the excess material away and sighed. Tyson’s vitals looked fine except for his fever and the incision looked neat, which considering his lack of skill, surprised him.

      “Okay, Green Giant just bandage it, hit him with the Ciprol, and the Aleve, and then get ready to move out.”

      It was Murray’s voice giving the order and he fought down his anger but lost. As he bandaged the site, he screamed at the mission runner.

      “I am not going any fucking place until he wakes up.”

      “That might take a while and we need to make up for lost time.”

      “Fuck you. I’m not leaving him. I’m not leaving him to wake up alone. What if he stays fevered and can’t do for himself? What if he can’t drink when it’s time, what if…”

      “Green Giant you have your orders. Pack your gear, don’t forget to retrieve anything that you might need from Rios’ ruck and move out. The sooner you leave the sooner you will get back to him. We pushed the mission clock and you will go in without that extra seventy-two hours of added intell. Do you copy?”

      “He’s infected! They said he needed the antibiotics regularly and if he can’t take them, or can’t drink what will happen? How will he have his I.V? How…”

      “Move out Green Giant, or I will send in a team to neutralize you both!”

      “Fuck you, Dalton!”

      “How did he get back in the net? Cut him out now.” Murray ordered Secour. “Settle down the both of you. Green Giant disregard that last, and please just pull it together, saddle up and move out. We will do a comms check in three hours on this freq. Delta HQ out.”

      Salem, seeing that he had little choice in the matter, completed his ministrations with Tyson, donned his pack, slipped from the dry security of the shelter and out into the sopping wet jungle. Then, after switching to night vision, he checked his compass and moved out swearing to the same god, whom he prayed to earlier and still did not believe in, that if Tyson died not a single member of his SSC team would live out the year.

 

 

 


End file.
